Hell of a Night
by yararebird
Summary: Frank goes out against his better judgment. Jude's one night stand isn't going as planned. It's shaping up to be a hell of a night...


_**Playlist as usual (Hell of a Night on Spotify): Impossible Year - Panic! At the Disco; Havana - Camila Cabello; Shape of You - Ed Sheeran; We Are Young - fun.; Hey, Soul Sister - Train; Secrets - One Republic; Say - John Mayer; Stolen Dance - Milky Chance; Mirrors - Justin Timberlake; Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande; Hold On - X Ambassadors; Stay - Sam Smith**_

Frank McCann wasn't exactly a 'going out' type of guy. He fancied himself more the 'stay at home watching the news and eating canned soup' type of guy. And that's why he was so frustrated on this Saturday night; he wasn't at home, there was no canned soup, and Carl was drunk.

Not exactly stumbling down the stairs, puking in the gutter, laying in the street, crying over a woman named Beth kind of drunk. But definitely the kind of drunk where you shout a person's name at least three times but then have absolutely nothing useful to say to that person.

Which was happening right then at a noisy club on Seventh Avenue.

"Frank. Frank. Frank!"

"What, Carl! Jesus." Frank steadied Carl on his stool.

"I'm tellin' ya, buddy. Hey. You my buddy, Frank?" He poked Frank's shoulder - not gently, but drunkly. "Yeeeaahh. You're my buddy. My. Buddy. Frank. Frickin' Frank McCann!" He yelled to several passing patrons. "This motherfucker right here is my buddy! No homo!"

"Carl." Frank grinned, hiding laughter. "You might need ta slow down tanight...buddy."

"Aw, Frank." Carl genuinely teared up in his beer. "You called me buddy! Woah. Check out that chick in the green dress!" He pointed. Like a bird, drunken Carl was easily distracted, and flitted toward the dance floor. "I'm gonna - I'm gonna dance with that that chick in the green dress, Frank."

"You do that, Carl." Frank looked to the dance floor, as well. He saw the chick in green - an attractive, well-coiffed black woman with an equally attractive well-coiffed black man on her arm. This spelled trouble.

But honestly. Frank was tired of babysitting. Tired of Carl's drunken shenanigans. He hadn't wanted to do any of this in the first damn place. And this cacophonous conglomeration of mad folk whirling about in what was probably reefer smoke in this claustrophobic juke joint from below Hell was _not_ how he'd planned to spend his night off.

Might as well be Briarcliff, he thought wryly. He drained the last of his pint. Third beer of the night. At least he had a nice buzz. It had seemed like a nice enough idea: himself, two other guards, Carl and another orderly - bowling. But bowling meant beer. And four pitchers and three strikes later, they were bar-hopping. He couldn't remember how many bars now. Four? Five? It seemed they'd lost a member of their party with each stop and now it was just the two of them. Awkward co-workers made slightly less awkward by alcohol. But it seemed Frank could handle his libations a little better than Carl could.

Or maybe he just knew how to pace himself, he mused.

There was a shout from the dance floor. The beginnings of what might be a spectacular brawl. But he wasn't in the mood, and he certainly wasn't taking any more responsibility for Carl tonight. So discreetly, he left a dollar on the bar and descended. It was shaping up to be a Hell of a night...

Outside, there was a spring breeze in the Boston streets. Cars rolled by, horns honking. People walked and ran about, laughing, talking amongst themselves. It was a clear night. Warming up. The cold winter's thaw was upon them officially, and everybody felt it.

Frank felt it. He threw his suit jacket over his shoulder. Didn't need it. He'd always been a warm natured guy, and this temperature was perfect. He tipped his hat at two passing ladies clad in the trappings of the season. Pink and purple dresses. Little peep toe shoes. Shiny vinyl clutches with their paychecks ready to be spent of filly drinks with umbrellas sticking out of them.

One of them winked at him. "Hey, handsome!" But the other one - the non-tipsy one - tugged her along impatiently.

Frank smiled. Nice. Waaay too young. But nice. In fact, the compliment brightened his evening considerably, and suddenly, home and news and soup sounded...boring as fuck. He turned left on Eighth. Wondered if it was still there - that bar he and Claire used to like so much. What was it called? The Moonlight? Blue Moon? Moon something…

A group of servicemen trundled past, singing. Frank recalled being one of them years ago. The freedom of furlough. The promise of foreign streets. Anonymity and motel sheets…

He shook his head, dismissing the memories. Far, far gone. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. Crescent Moon! That was it. The sign came into view: crescent shaped, backlit. It stood out on this dark, quiet corner of city life.

It hadn't changed much. Classic and classy. Maybe a little more lively than he remembered, but that was kinda nice. A band was playing on the small stage. Small stage. Small band. Not that crazy bandstand and packed dance floor Carl was getting his ass beat on right now. This was a much more...discerning establishment.

The bar was as pretty as he recalled. Dark, rich cherry wood lacquered to a high polish. The stools had backs on them and all the seams were still intact. The mirror was clean and the lighting was soft and the music was...perfect. They'd found themselves a spectacularly gifted crooner.

_There's no sunshine_

_This impossible year_

_Only black days and sky grey_

_And clouds full of fear_

_And storms full of sorrow_

_That won't disappear_

_Just typhoons and monsoons_

_This impossible year_

"Evenin' friend." A quiet greeting from a dapper bartender. Much better than having a well drink slung down a bar by someone barely out of highschool. "What can I getcha?"

Frank set his hat on the bar. Here, he could fancy a real drink. A sipping drink. "Got a good bourbon?"

"I got a fine single barrel."

"That sounds nice. On the rocks."

_There's no good times_

_This impossible year_

_Just a beachfront of bad blood_

_And a coast that's unclear_

_All the guests at the party_

_They're so insincere_

_They just intrude and exclude_

_This impossible year_

The drink was nice. A genuine aged bourbon. Smooth. The sweetness was on the back of the tongue and there was no sting. Just a spreading warmth in the gut. He could smell hints of vanilla and cherry. Good barreling. This was a drink that required a smoke. As soon as he lit one, the bartender placed a clean ashtray before him. Fuckin' classy.

_There's no you and me_

_This impossible year_

_Only heartache and heartbreak_

_And gin made of tears_

_The bitter pill I swallow_

_The scars souvenir_

_That tattoo, your last bruise_

_This impossible year_

A black coat hung on the back of the barstool beside him. A matching purse in the seat. Frank briefly worried he'd taken a man's seat, but this bartender would have surely told him so. There was an empty martini glass. No olive left on the toothpick. Cigarettes. An aged brass zippo similar to his own. Good company.

_There's never air to breathe_

_There's never in-betweens_

_These nightmares always hang on past the dream_

_There's no sunshine_

_There's no you and me_

_There's no good times_

_This impossible year_

Warmed by bourbon, Frank took a look around properly. He remembered the worn booths in the walls. He used to tuck there with his wife. Claire's brown curls tickling his jaw as they canoodled. Her angular body fitting against his like an odd puzzle piece. Her high-pitched laugh that let you know she thought something was _really_ funny. He grinned. Claire had laughed easily.

_Shit. _He swallowed. Rubbed at his eyes. _Fuckin' miss her… _Every now and then, the loneliness crept in.

_Havana, ooh na-na (ay)_

_Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh-na-na (ay, ay)_

_He took me back to East Atlanta, na-na-na_

_Oh, but my heart is in Havana (ay)_

_There's somethin' 'bout his manners (uh huh)_

_Havana, ooh na-na (uh)_

There was a shift on the dance floor when the slow Latin beat kicked up. This dark lady singer was talented, too. Frank noticed such things, bobbing his head. He watched the couples there. They danced for real. Not those jerky, undisciplined new dances the kids were doin' at that last joint. This was grown up dancing. And he damn well missed that, too.

_He didn't walk up with that "how you doin'?" (uh)_

_(When he came in the room)_

_He said there's a lot of girls I can do with (uh)_

_(But I can't without you)_

_I knew him forever in a minute (hey)_

_(That summer night in June)_

_And papa says he got malo in him (uh)_

_He got me feelin' like_

_Ooh-ooh-ooh, I knew it when I met him_

_I loved him when I left him_

_Got me feelin' like_

_Ooh-ooh-ooh, and then I had to tell him_

_I had to go, oh na-na-na-na-na_

Unlike Carl, Frank wasn't one to notice the ladies a lot. He was a widower, for one. And Claire had been special. Hard to imagine anyone ever comparing to the like of her. Oh, sure - he appreciated an attractive woman as much as the next red-blooded heterosexual man; a shapely leg, hourglass figure, set of pretty eyes. All those typical things. But you rarely found that in one package.

Claire, for example, had the eyes for sure. Prettiest blue you ever saw. And always a smile in them. But she was 'straight as a stick' she'd always said - envied those curvy Hollywood types with the tits and the hips and all that. They'd always laughed about it. Because Claire hadn't needed those things. And neither had Frank.

So why was he noticing them now of a sudden?

_Havana, ooh na-na (ay, ay)_

_Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh-na-na (ay, ay)_

_He took me back to East Atlanta, na-na-na (uh huh)_

_Oh, but my heart is in Havana (ay)_

_My heart is in Havana (ay)_

_Havana, ooh na-na_

That blonde on the dance floor for example… _Damn. _Yeah, she looked Hollywood for sure. Glossy, thick, perfect curls spilling onto her shoulders. Curves like the Audubon. Probably the longest set of creamy legs he'd ever seen.

And she sure as Hell knew how to move.

Watching all the men on the dance floor watch her was as entertaining as watching her. And watching the other women watch her was utterly hilarious. Rarely did one see such pure hatred and envy. Frank had to chuckle.

_The club isn't the best place to find a lover_

_So the bar is where I go_

_Me and my friends at the table doing shots_

_Drinking fast and then we talk slow_

_Come over and start up a conversation with just me_

_And trust me I'll give it a chance now_

_Take my hand, stop, put Van the Man on the jukebox_

_And then we start to dance, and now I'm singing like_

_Girl, you know I want your love_

_Your love was handmade for somebody like me_

_Come on now, follow my lead_

_I may be crazy, don't mind me_

_Say, boy, let's not talk too much_

_Grab on my waist and put that body on me_

_Come on now, follow my lead_

The song had shifted. This beat a little faster. And Frank had to chuckle a little harder because the poor boy dancing with that woman - and that was a _woman_ \- clearly had no idea what to do with her. He couldn't keep up, and it looked like she was giving him some lessons. Or trying to. Because clearly the boy had lost interest in dancing and was far more interested in her curves. Not that Frank blamed him.

_Come, come on now, follow my lead_

_I'm in love with the shape of you_

_We push and pull like a magnet do_

_Although my heart is falling too_

_I'm in love with your body_

_And last night you were in my room_

_And now my bedsheets smell like you_

_Every day discovering something brand new_

_I'm in love with your body_

In fact, Frank couldn't blame the poor kid on any account. He wouldn't know what to do with a woman like that himself. Well. Not on the dance floor, anyway. Not vertically.

Horizontally now? _That _was a different story. Sure, that red dress was flattering on her. But it would look better in the hallway leading to his bedroom. And she'd look better in just his sheets.

_Fuck._He rubbed at his face. _Get a grip, man. _He hadn't thought like that in...years. Point of fact: the last woman in Frank's sheets had been Frank's wife.

But Hell he was only human. And he missed that, too. Sex. The feel of silky legs sliding up his thighs. Breasts against his chest. Fingernails tracing lusty trails over his shoulders.

_Jesus Christ, Frank…_ He could almost hear Claire now. _You're not dead yet. Take her home tonight. _Claire's flirty wink. _Fuck her brains out. _

_Give me a second I_

_I need to get my story straight_

_My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State_

_My lover she's waiting for me just across the bar_

_My seat's been taken by some sunglasses asking 'bout a scar, and_

_I know I gave it to you months ago_

_I know you're trying to forget_

_But between the drinks and subtle things_

_The holes in my apologies, you know_

_I'm trying hard to take it back_

She'd told him before she died: Don't waste away. You're still young, Frank. Don't spend the rest of your life grieving over me. You made me a real happy woman. And you can do that again. Promise me?

_So if by the time the bar closes_

_And you feel like falling down_

_I'll carry you home_

And he'd promised her. Because that's what you do for dying people. Especially dying people you love. You promise them whatever they want. But he hadn't kept his promise. Sure, he'd finally stopped grieving...more or less. But no. There'd been no other women.

_Tonight_

_We are young_

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter than the sun_

But that blonde on the dance floor… She was sure making him feel like there might ought to be another woman. He could hazard one more look. Couldn't hurt anything. Besides, women like that - they weren't for men like him. They were for men like them - handsome, built, rich…

All that shit.

And while Frank knew he wasn't exactly painful to look at, he wasn't the kinda handsome that took home women like that one. So it was safe and fine to look all he wanted. She was used to it, anyway.

_Now I know that I'm not_

_All that you got_

_I guess that I, I just thought_

_Maybe we could find new ways to fall apart_

_But our friends are back_

_So let's raise a toast_

_'Cause I found someone to carry me home_

But she wasn't on the dance floor anymore. He blinked, looked around for a second. No. She was definitely gone. Probably home with the gropey young thing. Frank shrugged. For the best, anyway. He didn't need that kinda distraction. He held up a finger to the bartender. Another drink would do just fine, though.

_Tonight_

_We are young_

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter than the sun_

The drink was set before him and he considered it deeply. _AFter this one - home. Soup. News. Bed. In that order._ He'd gone out. Briefly wondered what became of Carl. Smirked. Would find out Monday.

Motion to his right caught his eye and he turned. Did a double take. The coat, the purse, the cigarettes, and the lighter...belonged to _her_. The woman from the dark dance floor. The blonde. The bombshell. The devil in a red dress. And she was perching on the stool right beside him, looking down the opposite end of the bar for the bartender.

This close, her hair shimmered in the low light. Her fingers were long and stronger than he'd anticipated, curling around her neck to touch at errant hair. She was tall. Long in the arms as she was in the legs. Shapely. Significant. Not one of those wasp-waisted girlies in pink and lavender. This one would be something to hold onto.

His mouth dried. She was alone it seemed. The gropey young man had taken to dancing with a lesser creature. Maybe one he could handle. And the bombshell didn't seem too disappointed.

He would buy her drink. The decision was spur of the moment but harmless. Just a gentleman buying a lady a drink. Surely it happened to this lady all the time. Maybe she'd give him a thank you. A smile. He could see if her face matched her body for beauty. Maybe they could even have a little conversation. Swap some pleasantries. She'd talk about her office job and he'd talk about security. Maybe he could tell her a joke or two. Get a laugh. Maybe she would even dance with _him_. The thought was almost too batshit to process, but it was there. Maybe she would slide those hips against him, slip those arms around his neck, whisper in his ear while they moved slowly. Maybe they could leave together. Her elbow through his. Walk in the nice breeze to his car. Grab a late dinner. Kiss. Make out on the front seat. Tear through his front door tossing clothes everywhere, collapse on his bed, those strong fingers stroking his head and his hard-on, lick his way all the way up those legs to -

"Woah! Watch out there!" She shouted at the couple that staggered to the bar.

A young couple, already kissing, tipsy, not watching where they were going. They bumped hard into his lady's (he'd decided he could call her that) stool, sending her nearly toppling before they staggered away, giggling. And Frank was just vigilant enough to grab the wooden backing in time to steady her.

Unfortunately his drink was not so lucky. Her arm, seeking purchase on the bar, sent it spilling. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She turned quickly on the stool, watching borbon pool and drip. And he was still close to her. Hands just leaving the stool's back. So when she turned, he was eye level, staring down the dress' v-neck to truly stunning curves of gorgeous tits. "Let me get you anothah."

He looked up to refuse - to deny the offer in her husky, sexy Boston lilt - to insist that no, _he_ would be the one buying _her _a drink - to laugh at youth's drunken antics - to introduce himself as smoothly as possible given their circumstance but that was _not _what happened.

Not even fucking close.

He wasn't even certain how he recognized her. What the hell could have given away a woman he saw in a habit every day when she was before him now dressed as Delilah? As Jezebel come to tempt him to sin?

"Frank!" She gasped.

He was shaking his head stupidly, still not quite processing. "_Sistah Jude_?"

"Ssh!" She slapped strong fingers across his mouth, shushing him. "Don't call me that!" She looked around almost frantically. "Are ya alone?"

He nodded behind her hand and realized it was her eyes that gave her away. He'd always thought (somewhere in the back of his mind) that the imposing nun who ran Briarcliff with an iron fist (or a stiff rod) had quite lovely eyes. A deep rich brown. Warm. And in her more unguarded moments (which he noticed - oddly) were simply beautiful. Eyes that harbored secrets, held emotions that her hard jaw kept at bay. Her face was a mixture of paradoxes.

But now. Now that face was softened by bar lighting, framed by a mane of gilded curls, and pinkened by gin. It was a pretty face - if terrified for the moment.

He pulled her hand from his mouth. Caught a whiff of addictive floral. "Sist - Boss...what are ya doin' here?"

"Goddammit, Frank." She muttered. Chewed at her plump bottom lip. "What are _you_ doin' here?"

"I _was_ havin' a drink." He gestured to his sideways bourbon glass. It was unfathomable - the whole situation. She was his supervisor - a nun. Woman of the cloth and all that weird bride of Christ shit. But tonight her cloth was a deep red - like her lips - and swirling around legs better suited for a pinup model. She looked like she oughta be on the side of a B-52 somewhere, bent over and blowing a kiss. And that crooner had started up again, a real bop in the background.

_Your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left side brains_

_I knew I wouldn't forget you, and so I let you go and blow my mind_

_Your sweet moonbeam, the smell of you in every single dream, I dream_

_I knew when we collided, you're the one I have decided who's one of my kind_

"Shit." She sighed. Sat back in her seat and cradled her head in her hand.

Frank chuckled for some reason. The surreality of the situation had caught up to him and he couldn't help thinking it was all quite funny. "You uh...you drinkin' too, boss?"

"Christ, don't call me that, either!" She snapped. She was even pinker in the face now. Obviously embarrassed.

"Well what the hell should I call ya, then?" He threw up his hands, grinning at her discomfort.

_Hey soul sister, ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo_

_The way you move ain't fair, you know!_

_Hey soul sister, I don't want to miss a single thing you do, tonight_

She rubbed her eyes. "Just...just call me Judy, Frank."

"Judy." He nodded, grin softening to smile. "Is that yer real name?"

"Yeah." She took a deep breath and gestured to the bartender. "Yeah, that's my real name."

"Judy." He repeated. "I like it."

She chuffed a rueful laugh. "Another dirty martini. And - " hooked a thumb to Frank - "whatevah this gentleman is havin'."

"On me." Frank added. The barman nodded, set to making their drinks.

"I owe ya, Frank." She reminded, setting up his spilled glass.

He waved her off. "Nah. I nevah bought a nun a drink before. It's fun."

_Just in time, I'm so glad you have a one-track mind like me_

_You gave my life direction, a game show love connection we can't deny_

_I'm so obsessed, my heart is bound to beat right out of my untrimmed chest_

_I believe in you, like a virgin, you're Madonna_

_And I'm always gonna wanna blow your mind_

"Fuck." She winced. Produced a cigarette. "Could we not mention the nun thing?"

"I dunno." Frank offered his own Zippo before she could reach for hers. Lit her smoke with a smirk. "Kinda like a big, black elephant in the room."

Finally - a reluctant smile started to crack her worried lips. "Well. Let's just...ignore that elephant, huh?"

He shrugged. "Yar callin' the shots." Watched her fingers fiddle nervously with her glass' stem. "You uh...you come here often?" He honestly had no idea what else to say.

She rolled her eyes. "No." Looked at him squarely. Nonplussed. "You?"

"Used to." He looked around. "Always was a nice place."

_Well you can cut a rug, watching you's the only drug I need_

_So gangsta, I'm so thug, you're the only one I'm dreaming of_

_You see, I can be myself now finally, in fact there's nothing I can't be_

_I want the world to see you'll be, with me_

She nodded agreement. "Good tunes."

"No doubt." He lit his own cigarette. Pushed the ashtray between them to share. "Good bourbon, too."

"Can't say I figured you far a bourbon drinker."

"Can't say I figured _you_ fer a drinker at all." He volleyed. "Cept maybe...ya know...communion wine."

"Frank, I said cut the nun shit!" Her look had a little fire in it. He liked it.

"Sorry!" He laughed. "I can't fuckin' help it!" He sobered. "But I'll try. I promise. No more nun shit." His lips trembled. "None at all."

"Quit that!" She meant it. "Not even a pun!"

He dodged the olive she threw. "Okay! Okay. No nun puns."

_Hey soul sister, ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo_

_The way you move ain't fair, you know!_

_Hey soul sister, I don't want to miss a single thing you do, tonight_

"Ass." She groused, settling back with her drink. "How'd you get a Saturday off, anyway?"

"Every third weekend." He held up three fingers. "_You_ make the schedule."

"Well, that was very generous of me."

"You bet!"

"I regret my largesse."

"Awww." He pouted.

"Ya know, you don't seem like this big of a pain in the ass at work."

"Welllll...I'm not at work." He was buzzing a little. This was enjoyable. "And neither are you. Obviously. So I'm free to be as big a pain in the ass as I like."

She shook her head, the smile becoming more genuine. And prettier by the second. She toasted. "Here's ta freedom, Frank."

He clinked his glass against hers. "Cheers ta that, Judy."

They listened to the music for a while, both thinking. Jude broke the silence. "You said ya used ta come here?"

"Yeah. Me and the missus."

"Yar married?!" She suddenly looked as if she might bolt. Run for the hills and not look back.

"I'm a lonely ol' widower." Frank gestured to his empty ring finger. "Goin' on ten years now."

"Frank." Her forehead creased. "I had no idea."

"Eh." He shrugged. "Guess there's a lot we don't know about each other."

Jude nodded, thinking. "So tell me somethin' else I don't know about you."

"Like what?"

"Hell, I dunno. That's the point, Frank. Somethin' I don't know."

"Well, I reckon that could be anything then."

"So this should be easy."

"Should be." He considered. "I was a Marine."

"Actually, I knew that."

"Really?" He couldn't hide his disappointment. "How'd ya know that?"

"Yar file." She flicked her cigarette. "Do bettah."

_I need another story_

_Something to get off my chest_

_My life gets kinda boring_

_Need something that I can confess_

_Til' all my sleeves are stained red_

_From all the truth that I've said_

_Come by it honestly I swear_

_Thought you saw me wink, no_

_I've been on the brink, so_

"Shit. I like canned soup."

She blinked. "What kind specifically?"

"Chunky."

"Like beef stew?"

"Yeah. Good stuff."

"Huh." She processed this new information.

"Your turn." He poked her shoulder. Kind of just wanted to touch her somehow. The bare skin was soft and warm.

"I didn't realize this was a tit far tat situation."

"Nothin's free." Frank tapped the bar firmly. "Neither tits nor tats. So pay up. Gimme somethin' good."

She snorted. "I dunno if I can top canned soup."

_Tell me what you want to hear_

_Something that will light those ears_

_Sick of all the insincere_

_I'm gonna give all my secrets away_

_This time, don't need another perfect lie_

_Don't care if critics ever jump in line_

_I'm gonna give all my secrets away_

"Alright. I'll just ask: what the hell are you doin' in a bar? On a Saturday night? Dressed like trouble don't bothah?"

"That," she stressed, "is none of yar business."

"You said no more nun shit."

"Goddammit, Frank!"

"Alright! Alright." His eyes watered a bit from laughter. "I'll go easy on ya. Where ya from?"

"Here."

"See? Easy."

"What was yar wife's name?" She leaned on her elbow, getting comfortable. Looking at him with interest.

"Claire."

"Pretty name."

"Yep." He nursed his bourbon.

"Was she pretty, too?"

Frank nodded. "Not like you. But yeah. Claire was a good lookin' woman."

"What'd you mean by that?" Her eyes narrowed.

_Oh, got no reason, got no shame_

_Got no family I can't blame_

_Just don't let me disappear_

_I'mma tell you everything_

"Mean by what?"

"Not like you." She leaned toward him a little. "What's that s'posed ta mean?"

"Oh, come on." He gave her a baleful scowl.

"_What_?"

"Every man in this bar knows what I mean." He made a sweeping motion to the crowd. "You're a fuckin' beauty!" She blushed. Actually blushed. Gorgeous. He chuckled. "Look at ya. Good thing Carl isn't here."

"Carl!" She sat up straight, looking around again. "Is Carl with you?!"

"No." He stressed. "I left his drunk ass at the last club. Probably getting a severe beating from an angry husband. Or two."

"Good." Jude relaxed. "He needs a solid beating." She nursed her martini. They weren't in a hurry. "But...thank you." She said softly.

"Fer what?"

"Far sayin' I'm pretty."

"I'm sure you've heard it a lot tanight."

"Not like that."

"Like what?"

She toyed with a toothpick. Poked an olive pit. "Sweet like that."

"Oh." Now Frank blushed. Coughed. Probably looked stupid. He tread back into safer territory. "You like dogs?"

"No. Not really." She crossed her legs. "Cats are okay, though."

"Bullshit. You evah had a cat?"

"No." She shrugged. "I had a squirrel once."

"Yeah?" He brightened. _That_ was different. "How was that?"

"It ended badly."

"Oh."

"So what are _you _ doin' here, Frank? In a bar. Alone. On a Saturday night."

_Take all of your wasted honor_

_Every little past frustration_

_Take all of your so-called problems,_

_Better put 'em in quotations_

_Say what you need to say_

_Say what you need to say_

"I went out with a buncha guys from work. They threatened ta put lye in my shorts if I didn't."

"Fun."

"Nope." He rubbed his chin. "I know they meant well. I'm just not much of a goin' out guy."

"Gotta start sometime."

"True." It was his turn to lean toward her. "Tit fer tat."

There was a flirt in her grin. Something coy. Somewhat scary. "Tits. But no tats. You?"

_Walking like a one man army_

_Fighting with the shadows in your head_

_Living out the same old moment_

_Knowing you'd be better off instead,_

_If you could only_

_Say what you need to say_

_Say what you need to say_

He laughed hard. "I managed to make it through the entire service with not one mermaid, anchor, or heart with a banner on it that says 'mom.' So. No tats here, either."

"Surprising."

"Yeah? You thought I'd be inked up?"

"I thought at least the obligatory hula girl."

"Sorry ta disappoint."

"Didn't say I was disappointed." She gestured for another martini. "Anothah?"

"One more, I guess. I'm tryin' ta be on my best behavior."

"How boring."

_Have no fear for giving in_

_Have no fear for giving over_

_You'd better know that in the end_

_It's better to say too much_

_Then never say what you need to say again_

"Trust me. I don't make the most attractive drunk."

"I don't believe that." She ruffled her curls, stretched on the stool. "I think you'd be just as attractive under this bar as you are at it."

"You sayin' I'm attractive?" He puffed up a touch.

"Maybe." She slid his next bourbon toward him. "Or maybe I'm just being an attractive drunk, myself."

"It's been a while since I've knocked 'em back like this."

"Me, too." She ate her olive. "Got out of the habit."

"I thought you said no more nun shit."

"That's not what I meant, Frank!" But she laughed, too. Deeply. The rich tone was the antithesis of Claire's.

_Even if your hands are shaking_

_And your faith is broken_

_Even as the eyes are closing_

_Do it with a heart wide open_

_Say what you need to say, _

_say what you need to say_

He watched her laugh. Enjoyed it immensely. "I like ya out of the habit, Judy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." The song shifted. They watched couples dance. "Yar not gonna tell me, are ya?"

"Tell ya what?"

"What brought ya here tanight."

"What do you think brought me here?" There was something...haunted in her eyes when they weren't laughing. Or teasing. Or avoiding. Something kinda dark.

_I want you by my side_

_So that I never feel alone again_

_They've always been so kind_

_But now they've brought you away from here_

He licked his lips. "I guess...Briarcliff can get kinda suffocating. I mean, I know fer me it does sometimes. Double shifts, especially. Overnight. It's lonely sometimes. And never like a quiet kinda lonely. It's like there's always somebody screamin' or cryin' or…" He was rambling. No longer looking into her haunted eyes. "And I know fer you it's gotta be even harder. Ya know with runnin' the place and all. And ya don't seem ta have much help up there. I mean, I know little Mary Eunice is yer assistant and whatnot but, Christ. She's like a baby herself. Poor thing. She seems so damn scared all tha time. And the Monsignor. He's a nice fella, but I don't think he has a fuckin' clue, Judy. Honestly. And he asks a lot of ya! Always some report or somethin' and meetin' after meetin' an' -"

"Frank." She placed a strong hand - very suddenly - on his knee. He looked at it there, blinking. "Do you wanna dance?"

_I hope they didn't get your mind_

_Your heart is too strong anyway_

_We need to fetch back the time_

_They have stolen from us_

Frank winced. Not that he didn't _want _ to dance with her. He'd honestly do just about anything to get his hands on her and that realization alone brought a terrifying reckoning with it. But… "Shit, Judy. I'm pants at dancin'. Really."

The strong hand moved from his knee to his elbow, cajoling. Caressing. "It's okay! This one's nice and slow, see?"

_And I want you_

_We can bring it on the floor_

_You've never danced like this before_

_We don't talk about it_

_Dancin' on do the boogie all night long_

_Stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it_

He saw. But he was still hesitant. "I dunno."

She slid from her stool smoothly, now tugging his elbow. "It's so easy. Right? Just watch me and follow along."

He shook his head, beginning to blush. "Judy. Fer real. I used ta try ta dance with Claire and she'd just end up laughin' so hard. I'd be all over her toes. Never knew where ta put my damn hands. She'd even try ta count -"

"Frank. Shut up and dance with me."

_And I want you_

_We can bring it on the floor_

_You've never danced like this before_

_We don't talk about it_

_Dancin' on do the boogie all night long_

_Stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it_

She didn't take his no for an answer and in seconds, he found himself on the dance floor. She put one of his hands at her waist. Raised the other. "Now. Just move along with me, huh?"

"This is a mistake," he assured her. But her hip felt real nice beneath his hand. And this was perfectly safe. Nearly a foot between them. He looked down, watching her feet. Matching the steps. Simple.

_Coldest winter for me_

_No sun is shining anymore_

_The only thing I feel is pain_

_Caused by absence of you_

_Suspense is controlling my mind_

_I cannot find the way out of here_

"See? Yar doin' great, Frank!" She tapped his shoulder to the beat.

"Yeah, this ain't so bad." He smiled at their feet, moving smoothly together now.

"Try lookin' up. Just feel the steps. Look at me." She nudged his chin, grinning.

So he looked at her. The eyes weren't so haunted now with a little smile in them. There was still something - something lurking. But it was almost a familiar something. Something he maybe saw in his own eyes every time he looked in the mirror.

_I want you by my side_

_So that I never feel alone again_

_And I want you_

_We can bring it on the floor_

_You've never danced like this before_

_We don't talk about it_

_Dancin' on do the boogie all night long_

_Stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it_

Maybe it was that loneliness he'd mentioned. He'd been honest with her about Briarcliff. And maybe that was too much. Maybe in trying to communicate his own feelings, he'd tapped into hers. And maybe he should have left that alone. She'd not seemed too keen to go deeper than canned soup and tattoos…

But this way, she was different. Seemed happy - at least on the surface. Whatever was beneath those brown irises was hidden by music. Or changed. Swept behind the mirror rather than on the surface of it.

And she sure was beautiful smiling. Swaying a little closer to him. She made him feel more confident on his feet than he'd ever felt before, that was for sure. He could dance like this all night.

Then, the song shifted and confidence melted into a lava puddle of anxiety and he lost the beat. "Wait. Shit. What?" His hand left her hip. He looked uncertainly at his partner's laughing face.

_Aren't you something to admire, 'cause your shine is something like a mirror_

_And I can't help but notice, you reflect in this heart of mine_

_If you ever feel alone and the glare makes me hard to find_

_Just know that I'm always parallel on the other side_

"Nonono, Frank! Stop." She tugged him back to her even closer. "It's okay! This one is slow, too. Right? Just - here." She put both hands on her waist and wrapped her arms over his shoulders. "Let's just box step this one, kay?"

"Box…" He looked at her feet again.

_'Cause with your hand in my hand and a pocket full of soul_

_I can tell you there's no place we couldn't go_

_Just put your hand on the glass, I'm here trying to pull you through_

_You just gotta be strong_

"Ah-ah-ah." She tilted his chin back up to her, pinched his cheek. "Stop lookin' at my feet. Remembah? We're just feelin' the beat."

Yes, he was definitely feeling a beat: his heartbeat. Every now and then her front was brushing his front and it was causing his blood pressure to rise exponentially. His nerves wracked. He hoped she wouldn't detect the growing erection in his trousers.

_'Cause I don't wanna lose you now_

_I'm looking right at the other half of me_

_The vacancy that sat in my heart_

_Is a space that now you hold_

Jude cocked her head. "Frank. Yar not a bad dancer, at all. Ya lied ta me."

"I have no idea what I'm doin' right now, Judy!"

"What?" She leaned toward him.

"I said I have no idea what I'm -" The drunk couple next door bumped them and his face went right into her ear. "Hell. Sorry!" Her hair smelled wonderful.

She shook her head. Put her own lips close to his ear. "Dance floor hazards." Her breath was a lust punch to his gut.

_Show me how to fight for now_

_And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy_

_Coming back into you once I figured it out_

_You were right here all along_

_It's like you're my mirror_

_My mirror staring back at me_

_I couldn't get any bigger_

_With anyone else beside of me_

"Gettin' crowded out here." It was. More dancers were filling the floor. The bar was busying up. He was starting to feel a touch claustrophobic.

"It's not that bad." Her arms tightened around his neck a little, bringing him closer. "We're just gonna need ta bunch up some."

"Bunch up." Her breasts brushed his chest. He cleared his throat. "No problem."

_And now it's clear as this promise_

_That we're making two reflections into one_

_'Cause it's like you're my mirror_

_My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me_

This close, he could see just over the top of her curly head. Other dancers were moving a lot more confidently. He studied their movements. "Hey. Gimme yer hands." She did, a somewhat quizzical smirk. He turned her beneath both arms easily. Tightly. Not disturbing their neighbors at all.

She was smiling with teeth when he settled her back against him. "Look at you!" A pat to his chest. "Gettin' fancy on me!"

"I can do this." He gripped her waist again, embracing, and took the lead.

"Ya sure can." She breathed against his neck. "Nice job, Frank." More than his ego swelled at her words. And he decided that was fine. She'd done this, anyway. Brought him out here to dance. Put that diabolical body all up against him. She deserved whatever poked her.

_Aren't you something, an original, 'cause it doesn't seem merely assembled_

_And I can't help but stare 'cause I see truth somewhere in your eyes_

_Ooh I can't ever change without you, you reflect me, I love that about you_

_And if I could, I would look at us all the time_

Obviously she sensed no danger from him. That was nice. She'd pressed nearly fully up against him now and hadn't shied away from his more prolific biological responses. He felt her fingers curling into his collar. Her forehead rested against his shoulder. Their feet had fallen into sync, moving within one another's box with ease.

So when the song shifted this time, and that lady singer took the mic again, Frank had no worries.

_Oh yeah_

_Don't need permission_

_Made my decision to test my limits_

_'Cause it's my business_

_God as my witness_

_Start what I finished_

_Don't need no hold up_

_Taking control of this kind of moment_

_I'm locked and loaded_

_Completely focused my mind is open_

This song was slower, sinful in tempo. She slid her leg against his, pulling back to test his reaction and finding it intensely focused. In fact, when the bluesy track deepened, hit a low, hard note, he fearlessly dipped her, watched her give with ease, back rolling in his arm. .

_All that you got, skin to skin, oh my God_

_Don't ya stop, boy_

_Somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman_

_Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout you_

_Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn't_

_Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout_

"Shit, Frank." She breathed, something sly and maybe promising in her coy expression. "I created a monstah."

"You feel good, Judy." He blurted. Swallowed thickly. Probably shouldn't have said that.

She didn't mind, though. "Mmmmm." Eased her other arm around him and ground against his hip. "You have no idea…"

_Nothing to prove and I'm bulletproof and_

_Know what I'm doing_

_The way we're movin' like introducing_

_Us to a new thing_

_I wanna savor, save it for later_

_The taste of flavor, 'cause I'm a taker_

_'Cause I'm a giver, it's only nature_

_I live for danger_

So they got steamy. Shyness gave way to his new confidence and her reticence bled into what felt like a full blown seduction. He let his hands wander - nothing crazy. Just over her swaying hips. Up her sides. Meaty ribs. Yeah, she was as supple as he'd imagined. She rested her forehead against his, red painted lips moving along to the lyrics. She knew this song. Made sense somehow.

_Oh yeah_

_Somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman_

_Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout you_

_Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn't_

_Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout you_

It was his turn to nudge her chin. And when her eyes met his, they were a little wet. His forehead creased. "You okay, Judy?" Maybe his hands had wandered too much.

"Frank…"

They slowed to barely moving. Basically holding each other. She didn't seem too steady on her feet, now. And her cheeks were flushed. She bit her lip. "Judy."

"Ya know why I came here tanight, dontcha?" She wouldn't meet his eyes. The song bled into the background. Bled into another low, slow number from that smooth crooner.

"I got an idea, Judy." He spoke against her ear. Felt her shiver. "It's alright."

"It's not."

_Hold_

_Hold on_

_Hold on to me_

_'Cause I'm a little unsteady_

_A little unsteady_

"Sshhhh." He hushed her, beginning to gently sway again. Keep her dancin'. Keep her movin'. Couldn't see her cryin'. "Sometimes...we all get lonely. Only human."

"If you hadn't been here -"

"But I am here." He squeezed her. Hugged her. She hugged him back, felt weak and boneless in his arms.

_Mama, come here_

_Approach, appear_

_Daddy, I'm alone_

_'Cause this house don't feel like home_

_If you love me, don't let go_

_If you love me, don't let go_

"Frank." Her voice was muffled on his shoulder. "I'm not anything you think I am."

"I have a feelin' yer everything I think ya are."

"Yar a good man." She sniffled.

"And yer a fine woman, Judy." Not thinking, he put his lips to her temple. Something like a kiss. "Inside and out."

"No, I'm not." She straightened suddenly. Stiff. Drawing away from him. Looked to the bar. He recognized flight in her gaze. "I bettah go."

_Mother, I know_

_That you're tired of being alone_

_Dad, I know you're trying_

_To fight when you feel like flying_

"No way." He clutched her arms. "Stay with me now." He pulled. She let him. "We're just dancin', remembah? You created a monstah."

"_I'm_ the monstah, Frank."

There was so much in that statement. So much in the tears he felt on his collar. So much in her strong fingers' weak grip on his shoulders. So much in this desperate cling. "Judy. Shut up and dance with me."

_Guess it's true, I'm not good at a one-night stand_

_But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man_

_These nights never seem to go to plan_

_I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand_

And _he_ knew this song. Heard it on the radio often. He liked it. He sang it very softly as they resumed this now not-even-dancing-dance. Her hands linked behind his neck as if she needed the extra support.

_Oh, won't you stay with me_

_'Cause you're all I need_

_This ain't love, it's clear to see_

_But, darling, stay with me_

"I'm sorry." She murmured suddenly. "I'm a bad bet, Frank. Just a real fuckin' mess."

"Yeah? Me, too, sistah."

"I can't keep this up…"

He knew she wasn't referring to the dance. Or the talk. Or anything between the two of them in that moment. That she was referring to whatever - whoever - haunted those pretty brown eyes so much. And it didn't matter.

_Why am I so emotional_

_This is not a good look, gain some self-control_

_And deep down I know this never works_

_But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt_

He understood that. Had his own haunts. Knew that whatever magnet drew him to her curves could just as easily draw him into the sadness of his loneliness. That being together could certainly make them feel further apart. That his ghost and her ghost could dance together better than they could any day.

But for now - for tonight - they could feel something good together. "Judy."

"Hm?"

"Let's get outta here. Whaddaya say? Ya can't go back ta Briarcliff tanight. Not drinkin' like this. And I gotta nice little apartment not too far from here." He felt her stiffen again. "No, no. I'm not sayin' anything like...like _that _ is expected or gonna happen or -"

"Like what, Frank?" She looked at him now, head stronger on her shoulders.

"You know…"

She chewed her lip. "Ya can't drive now."

"I wouldn't." He chuckled. "But there's cabs."

"I'm stayin' across the street," she admitted softly. "I got a room." She flushed darkly. Looked away.

"Well, that's...responsible of ya." He tried not to imagine her in that room with some stranger. That gropey young thing… Tried just as hard not to imagine her in that room with him. What the moonlight might look like angling through blinds, falling on her naked skin.

She chuffed laughter. "Yeah. Real responsible."

"Want me...want me ta walk ya back there?" Uncertainty again. Maybe he should just let her get what she came here for. Not him. Let her have that stranger - that danger. That anonymity she craved. "I mean...unless you were gonna stay here fer a while. I could just -"

"Let me get my coat." She cut him off. Her hand was warm in his. She led him from the floor.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He didn't know what to expect from her. Her face had become so serious now. Smile given way to a peaceful if resigned turn of her plump lips. He helped her slip into her coat. When she turned, she looked at him expectantly. Slipping into his own jacket, he offered his arm. "Shall we?"

She looped her hand over his elbow. "Yes."

The spring breeze had abated. Now there was a chill outside, and a surprising steady rain outside the Crescent Moon's awning. "So much for my hair," Jude muttered. "I"m right there." She pointed to a hotel across the way, its white light beckoning through a sheet of gray water. The Lenox.

Frank set his hat atop Jude's head. "Come on. Let's make a run." Between slow moving cars they dodged and weaved, laughing in the downpour until they halted beneath the hotel's red velarium. "Not bad fer a lady in heels," he joked.

"Practice." She squeezed his arm. At the revolving door, they stared at one another. Jude rubbed her lips together nervously. "You um - you wanna come up?"

Yes. Yes, he did want to go up. But he wanted to make damn sure she wanted him there. "I don't wanna intrude."

"Intrudahs don't get invited."

"Jude…"

"Frank." She looked down. "If it isn't you, it's gonna be somebody else."

"I have a feelin' it's somebody else anyway." He said softly.

"Hah!" She threw her head back, the laughter ironic - not pleasant. "Yeah? Well. You too, right?"

His turn to look down. "You're a beautiful woman, Judy."

"So come up." She stepped toward the door, spreading her hands in invitation. "Besides...I still got yar hat." She disappeared in the revolution.

"Ay!" Fank followed. Followed her up three flights of stairs. Followed her down a long, carpeted hall. Listening to her teasing giggle.

All the way at the end of the hall - at a door labeled 37 - she stopped. Opened her purse and extracted a key. She opened the door and stepped into its frame, turning. "Comin' in, then? Or just want yar hat?" She held the hat in her hand now, offering it to him.

"Judy." His fingers itched. He reached for the hat. "Listen - Woah! What'd you do that for?!"

She'd tossed the hat into the darkened room. "Come get it." She backed into the shadows, smirking. Frank closed the door behind him.

Jude's room was a corner room. Two windows - with the curtains pulled - let in a smattering of silver light. Frank spied the lamp by the bed and tugged its cord. In the sudden warm light, he saw Judy dropping her coat to the floor. She stepped out of her chunky heels. Reaching for the zipper back of her dress, she paused to cast him an over shoulder pout. "Gonna watch?" She asked. "Or help a lady out?"

"Judy." His hand shook as out of practice fingers found the zipper pull. It opened noisily all the way down her back to her skirt's mid-flare. "Pretty." He murmured, stroking her creamy bared skin.

Jude leaned back, forcing him to hold her from behind, tugging the sleeveless dress from her shoulders. "Touch me, Frank."

"Christ," he growled. Swept her thick, rain-fluffed hair aside to kiss the length of her neck. His fingers memorized the feel of her soft flesh from spine around to belly. When his middle finger dipped into her navel, she lurched against him, hissed.

He slipped the dress over her hips, loving her little shimmy. She wore only bra, panties and garter belt. No slip underneath. This was a woman who'd been on a mission. He had no complaints... Made things easier.

Her breasts were firm, spilling nicely just over a handful and sinful in black lace. She moaned at his squeeze and he moved on. He couldn't touch or feel or explore enough of her, fingers slipping over satin suspenders and under panty elastic. "Ah!" She bucked when he encountered the warm, trim fur of her. She was wet. He sleeked the moisture through her secret folds until she whipped in his arms.

"Undress." Her voice shook. "Now." Her fingers shook, too - working at his stubborn buttons. "Come on, Frank. Help me out." His tie made a zinging sound as she flicked it behind her and he tossed her bra in the opposite direction.

"Jesus." Her breasts were heavy in his hands - just perfect. She arched into his caresses, upsetting their balance. "Gimme a second, tiger." He shrugged out of his shirt. Kicked off shoes. Jude worked his belt open, teasing him mercilessly until he physically removed her hand from his pants. "Stop it if you wanna get anything outta this other than sticky."

"I don't mind sticky." She climbed on the bed, pulling him with her.

"These fuckin' things." He tugged at her garters.

"Here." She made quick work of them. They left the stockings, although one rolled halfway down a long leg. He would explore those in more detail later. For now, the suspender belt and her lacy underwear had to go.

The bed complained as he crawled over her. She sighed at the skin on skin contact, raised her legs alongside his hips. His hardness pressed against her softness and she shifted impatiently, trying to nudge him inside her. "Slow down! Slow down. Shhh." Frank pressed his forehead to hers. "Lemme please ya, Judy." He spoke quietly, stroking her ears.

"You _are_ pleasing me, Frank!" She insisted, whining. "Just - mrph!"

His lips silenced hers.

They hadn't kissed once until now. Hadn't spoken of kissing. And he supposed she hadn't expected it. But Frank couldn't make love without kissing. Couldn't imagine that particular intimacy without this particular intimacy. He urged her lips to part, caressing his way down her voluptuous curves, snaking a touch in between them.

And that touch opened her mouth wantonly. And her legs. Surged her against him. Her neck arched. "Frank!"

He kissed the thin skin there, too. In the lamplight, her body went pink with flush. "You're the prettiest goddamn thing, Judy." Groaned when her nails scraped from his sensitive ass cheeks to his quivering shoulders.

She caught onto his lead. Managed to slow. To enjoy. Rubbed against him catlike. Pulled his lips back to hers. Her little moans and mewls at his explorations were addictive. And she was a talker. "Oh, that's so sweet," she whimpered when he pinched her clit. "Make me come, Frank. Kiss me again." He did, but still couldn't shut her up. She spoke directly against his lips. "Please. _Please_, I just want ya inside me, Frank. I need this. I need you. Just - Ah!"

She curled against him when he slid inside her - to the hilt in one smooth thrust. "God!" Her abdomen clenched. She quivered and undulated like a snake. "Yes!"

"Shit, Judy, be still a sec." He groaned against a breast. "Gimme a minute, baby. Yar tight as my pistol grip and it's been...a while." He clenched his eyes closed, breathing deeply against the pleasure already threading up his back.

Her breaths were quick and fast. She took his face in her hands, seeking out his eyes. "Me, too. A long while." Now her kisses sweetened. She softened in his arms. Relaxed. Encouraged him to motion with her embrace and peppered his neck with raspy bites. "That's it. So good, Frank. Stay this close ta me."

Their rhythm synced as if they were back on the dancefloor. As if their bodies knew each other before their minds did. It was a slow pace. In turns grinding. Sweat slicked them, sticking parts of them together until a molecule couldn't fit betwixt.

But Frank's tenuous hold on control was slipping. "Judy. Sweetheart." He tasted sweat on her brow.

She understood. "Faster. Harder. I'm close. Fuck me, Frank."

"Oh, Christ." He buried his face in her neck. Buried his cock in her cunt. Buried his feelings in the pleasure and buried his heart - elsewhere. He compartmentalized while she came apart in his arms - _thank God_. Her head was nearly hidden in pillows. He swatted one away to take her lips one more time, kissing her sloppily while her contractions milked him dry.

"God, Judy."

"Yeah. He's watchin'."

"What a sicko."

Jude laughed, staring at the popcorn ceiling. She stroked soft designs on Frank's back. "That was real nice, Frank. Really."

"I thought so, too." He pulled her into an embrace, rolling onto his back. "I'm sorry it was uh - short."

"No, no!" Jude propped on an elbow, regarding him. "You know, I was pretty -"

"Primed like a nitro charger?" He chuckled. "I noticed."

"I mean. We can always go again."

"We?!" He grinned. Something leaked onto his leg. "I'm gonna be lucky if my back takes me to tha damn bathroom."

"I'll be on top." She patted his chest, pushing off the bed. "I'm gonna clean up." A box of tissues smacked his stomach and he startled. Watched her saunter into the bathroom as if she didn't have one stocking bunched behind a knee and the other with a massive run. Not like she had anything to be ashamed of.

He took his turn in the toilet after her, noting the red scratches marring his back and shoulders. "Devil woman," he muttered, smiling.

She was sitting up in the bed when he returned, clutching a sheet over her chest. He climbed in beside her. "Yar stayin'." She stated.

"Unless yer kickin' me out."

"Nope." She stretched. He heard some joints pop. "I don't have chapel tomorrow. So we can have a nice slow morning session."

"What about another nice slow tanight session?" He reached for her, took her in a cool embrace.

"I welcome the possibility." She sighed, plucked at a few of his chest hairs. It tickled. The rain lulled them. Created odd shadows on the had the audacity to rumble in the distance. "Frank."

"What, Judy?"

"Maybe...maybe we could be -"

"Friends with benefits?" He finished her thought. "Ow!" When she plucked another chest hair too hard.

"Yeah."

"What? Even at work?"

"You work night shifts sometimes."

"Whatever you want, boss." He shrugged. Reminded her again: "You make the schedules."

"Hm. True." She snuggled. Her fingers left off tormenting his chest hair to torment other parts of him.

He grunted. "Judy…" A warning. He squeezed her ass.

Her chuckle was devilish when she mounted his hips. "Call me boss, Frank."

* * *

They were the drowsiest, sorest, most wet-haired, unkempt pair of people in all of Boston. Frank was absolutely convinced of this as they slid into a booth at Bernice's. Ordered coffee and two waters.

Jude wore his hat and a rumpled red dress. No stockings - she'd tossed those in the garbage. Her coat was wrinkled from a night half under a hotel room bed. Frank was wrinkled from a night half under a nun.

They'd started their coffees before a word was spoken. It was Jude predictably. "I had a really nice night, Frank."

He smiled at her. "It was a pretty good morning, too."

She blushed. "I'm sorry about the shower."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's fine. Just a pulled muscle."

"I shouldna come in there."

"I'm glad ya did!" He leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Next time, we just need ta make sure we put the soap up on a rack."

"Lessons learned." She conceded. Stared out the window for a moment. "You um...mind drivin' me back ta Briarcliff after this?"

"I don't mind." He was a touch disappointed. "Though, if you want to, maybe we could spend the day -"

"I told the Monsignor I'd be back by noon." She looked down, but not before he caught a flicker of something in the haunted eyes. "Some important fuckin' Catholic fuck is coming and I'm s'posed ta give 'em a tour."

"Oh." He swallowed the disappointment. "Well, I'd hate fer ya ta miss that excitement."

"Yeah." She chuffed insincere laughter. Their plates slid in front of them. They ate quietly for a while. "Frank."

"Judy."

"Let's do this again next month."

His grin nearly broke his face. "Sure thing, boss."

* * *

On Monday, he reported for work at four pm. Ran into Carl in the kitchens. "Jesus Christ, man! What happened ta you?"

Carl winced. Probably from the pain of blinking his massive black eye. "I wish I fuckin' remembered." The younger orderly leaned against a bread table. "D'you leave me in some rat infested dive bar on the south side?"

"Nah." Frank shrugged, grinning. "I left ya at some gin-soaked juke joint about ta get yer ass kicked. And it looks like it did."

"Some buddy _you_ are." But Carl was smiling wryly. "Hell of a night, though, huh?"

Frank watched Sister Jude enter the kitchen with Mary Eunice at her heels. He tipped his cap to her, and she inclined her wimpled head in return. "It was that, Carl."

"Gentlemen." The imposing sister greeted them.

Carl looked down. "Hello, Sister Jude."

"Boss." Frank smiled. "Sister Mary Eunice."

Jude bent, looking closely at Carl's downcast visage. "Carl. What's happened? I do hope ya haven't been injured by a patient."

"No, Sister Jude." He grumbled, still didn't look up.

Eunice tisked. Jude caught Frank's eyes. There was humor in them today - not haunting. "Well. I'll leave you gentlemen to yar important duties." She gestured to Eunice who fell into step eagerly. "Oh." A pause in the kitchen entrance. "Frank."

"Yes, boss?"

"If you'd report ta my office before the end of yar shift tanight, I'd appreciate it." She looked back at him over a shoulder. "I might need ya ta work a double."

"Sure thing, boss." The nuns left and Frank slapped Carl's shoulder too hard. "Hell of a goddamn night, buddy."


End file.
